A Life For
by S J Smith
Summary: She was always too impulsive. A rewrite of the anime episode # 43, "The Stray Dog".


A Life For

S J Smith

Disclaimer: Arakawa Hiromu, Square Enix, Funimation and Aniplex (and probably others) own the copyrights. I just play in the sandbox. I promise, I'll put away the toys when I'm done.

Rating: Teen

Written for Live Journal's community, picfor1000. Thanks to D. M. Evans for the edit.

Summary: She was always too impulsive. Anime-verse, a rewrite of episode 43, "The Stray Dog".

* * *

Alphonse thought the blood trickling down looked like syrup, staining her blue and white cotton shirt red. Edward screamed Winry's name, falling to his knees, reaching out but hesitating to touch, afraid, always afraid he'd cause nothing but pain.

When had things gone so wrong? Lior? Farther back? Maybe it was their mother's death or even the murder of Winry's parents. There was too much damn agony in the world. "Brother?" He wondered if Edward could even hear his voice over the other sounds around them – rushing water, furious shouts. Sciezca's scream as she, too, tried to pull free from Lieutenant Hawkeye.

How had it happened? Alphonse had seen the rope binding Winry's wrists. She and Sciezca were Colonel Mustang's hostages, though if the Colonel had thought that would slow Edward down, he had been wrong. It took alchemy, in the form of Major Armstrong's stone projectile and a fire blast from Colonel Mustang, to shatter that device into a million stone knives. It was science that gave them the weapon but the Colonel had been a fool to assume Winry would watch idly, hostage or no.

She'd torn free some how, Alphonse could see the rope burns on her wrists, trying desperately not to see the red fluid staining her mouth but there was no way to ignore it. Winry was bleeding white, her brow creased in a puzzled frown, her eyes already going glassy and distant. "No," Alphonse whispered, "no, Winry."

Edward trembled, his teeth gritting, fists clenching in rage. He lunged to his feet, grabbing the Colonel's jacket and hauling him close. "Is this what you wanted to happen?" His cry echoed over the water, ringing in Alphonse's mind. He heard the Colonel's protest, Major Armstrong's voice, but it all became a jumble to Alphonse as he picked up Winry's hand, holding it.

"I'm here, Winry," he said, leaning closer. "Right here."

"Al?" Her voice sounded indistinct, fragile.

Alphonse cursed that he couldn't cry. Inside, it felt like he bled tears for her but his voice didn't even shake. "Winry, I'm here." He wanted to reach for his brother but he was afraid to turn away from Winry. He couldn't leave her alone, not like this.

She tried to smile but it failed, her hand in his losing its grip. Her eyes faded, no longer reflecting the beauty of the sky but instead the dull grey of the surrounding rocks. "No," Alphonse murmured, catching her hand, holding it closer to the steel of his chest plate. "No, Winry, we're supposed to be together in this. We're a team, you, Brother and me." Her head slumped ever so slightly to the side and Alphonse reached out, the leather of his gauntlet smearing the blood on her cheek. "No. Winry."

Raising his gaze, he saw Edward, turning so very slowly, as if the air had become thick as syrup, golden eyes impossibly wide. Horror stamped itself on Colonel Mustang's face and fresh tears bloomed on Sciezca's face. Major Armstrong and Lieutenant Hawkeye might have been able to act but Edward was faster – his palms slamming together and then to the ground, creating a stone barricade between them, protecting them, however briefly, from intrusion.

"Winry!" In that enclosed space, Edward's cry would've hurt any living person's ears. Neither Alphonse nor Winry was affected and Alphonse wished he could turn away from his brother's anguish. Edward touched her, one gloved hand smoothing the bangs off her forehead, the other taking her limp hand to cradle it against his chest. "Winry, please. Please." Her fingers twitched as she exhaled something that sounded like Edward's name and he bit back a sob. "You'll be okay. We'll still do everything we promised, Winry." Edward raised his face to Alphonse's and something coalesced between the brothers over their friend's body.

Muffled sounds came from outside the dome, arguments or pleas, Alphonse couldn't tell. He could just make out the determination in Edward's eyes. No discussion was needed; the decision was the only one they could make for Winry.

They drew the circles in her blood, on Edward's forehead, his arms, his legs; above his heart. Alphonse sported the same, though his 'flesh' was of metal. Still, he harbored the Philosopher's Stone within him to give the brothers hope. It had kept Edward from touching Alphonse for fear of activating the stone. Now, Edward gathered Winry against his chest, her head lolling against his shoulder. In the dim light, Alphonse saw a look of peace settling on his brother's face. "All right, Alphonse." Edward closed his eyes. Alphonse couldn't tell if he brushed his lips over Winry's crown or not as Edward touched his palms together. The circles he'd drawn in blood glowed, Edward and Winry's forms illumined in blue lightning, and Alphonse touched his own palms together, the brothers pressing their hands to Winry's body.

* * *

"What the hell do they think they're doing?" Mustang shouted, bracing himself against the tremors beneath his feet. Wind whipped around him and his men, tearing at clothing and hair. The crisp smell of ozone blanketed the air; the scent of alchemy being worked. Trees creaked in protest of their treatment, the snapping sound alerted Mustang, who turned, striking a match to incinerate the tree before it could crash down on them. It seemed like a thousand people whispered in his ears, the susurrus of their voices deafening him. Driven to his knees, he thought he cried out –

- and then, all was still save for the sound of rushing water.

Edward's dome had shuddered to dust, destroyed by whatever alchemy the brothers wrought between them. Their bodies might've been part of that dust but Mustang thought otherwise. "I believe," he said, speaking later to Pinako Rockbell of the event, "they're somewhere else. At the very end, I heard children laughing."

The old woman stared up at him, her gaze unreadable behind the glass of her lenses. "What matters most, Colonel Mustang, is that wherever they are, they are together."

* * *


End file.
